


Down In New Orleans

by DixieSiryn



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mardi Gras, New Orleans, Pre-Series, SyfyHaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieSiryn/pseuds/DixieSiryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Those eyes! Deep pools of a blue that was almost black, with a misting of grey around the blue. Like a glimpse of midnight sky during a storm at sea."</p><p>Our favorite smuggler takes a trip to New Orleans to have a little fun at Mardi Gras. He gets more than he bargained for. </p><p>Set in 2006, before Duke's return to Haven, before the Troubles returned, before Audrey Parker fell into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down In New Orleans

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Duke Crocker is a character on the Syfy network show Haven. I have no connection with the show other than being a fan. 
> 
> Duke is my muse.

Pulling into the Port of New Orleans at dusk Duke thought he could hear music. Since it was Fat Tuesday, the final night of Mardi Gras, it was highly likely he wasn’t imagining it. Even though Katrina had devastated their city less than a year ago New Orleanians would have their Mardi Gras.

“Good for them,” Duke thought as he left the _Cape Rouge_ in search of the party.

 In New Orleans, especially during Mardi Gras, that didn’t take long.

Duke was soon dancing in the streets, without a partner, but not alone. All around him were people, both masked and unmasked, dancing, celebrating; a mass of moving, swaying, LIFE and music that you appreciated with your soul as much as with your ears.

Duke’s attention was soon drawn to a masked reveler with hair the color of a raven’s wing.  Her hair was the blackest hair he had ever seen.  He spent a few moments watching her as she moved, so in sync with the music that it seemed as though it were part of her, or created by her.

The woman’s costume was a simple long dress of midnight blue, which skimmed her body and was slit slightly off center in a manner that reminded Duke of a side part. Peeking through this slit, a well-shaped leg was revealed to mid-thigh.   The upper half of her face was concealed by a feathered mask that extended up past her hairline to form a crown but left the lower half of her face uncovered.

Duke knew he wanted, no, HAD to meet this woman.

First, he slipped into a bar along the street and ordered two cold beers. Duke figured if she turned him down well, more for him.

He moved back out on the street, looking for his mystery woman; Duke was surprised at the sudden feel a hand on the back of his neck. His first instinct was to drop the beer and reach for the knife he kept concealed in his boot. The urge quickly passed, as he realized the hand was caressing the hair at the nape of his neck, not trying to strangle him.

Duke caught a trace of scent, one he had encountered before in his travels. Nag Champa, if he remembered correctly - sandalwood mixed with resin from a tree found in India. An intoxicating fragrance that reminded Duke of warm evenings spent in the bed of a beautiful woman.

He stood still, waiting, as she moved around his side, looking up at him with the most remarkable eyes he had ever seen. Duke knew those eyes were going to haunt his dreams for some time to come, but for now he simply held out the beer, offering her cold liquid refreshment in exchange for a dance. Taking the beer, she inclined her head to indicate acceptance and they began to dance to the lively beat of the “Mardi Gras Mambo.”

When the song changed (as opposed to ending, because, during Mardi Gras, the music never stops), Duke’s partner slipped away from him and, momentarily, he lost her. At first, casually - as if it meant nothing - Duke scanned the crowd for her. Then he began searching more urgently, because it damned sure _did_ mean something, though he couldn’t say what. Finally catching a glimpse of her, Duke realized she hadn’t really gone far. In fact, she seemed to be waiting for him to catch up, which he did. Quickly.

Taking his hand she led him up a set of stairs that he hadn’t realized were there to an apartment with a balcony overlooking the street. It was a small apartment; the most remarkable feature was a giant brass bed.  There was also a tiny kitchen, and a door to what Duke assumed was a bathroom.  No other furniture was in evidence except for an abundance of colorful over-sized pillows strewn around the floor.

Once inside the apartment, the woman turned to Duke and removed her mask to reveal a rather ordinary face, leaving Duke feeling mildly disappointed. It wasn’t that she was plain or ugly, but rather that he had expected something a bit more…exotic, perhaps.

Then she did something extraordinary.

She smiled.

It wasn’t a wide grin, or a coy simper, but a slight tilting of the corners, a Mona Lisa smile, that was reflected in her eyes. Those eyes! Deep pools of a blue that was almost black, with a misting of grey around the blue. Like a glimpse of midnight sky during a storm at sea. Suddenly, her face was transformed from ordinary to mesmerizing. This, thought Duke, was truly a face that could launch a thousand ships. For this face, a man would do anything.

As she leaned into him, Duke buried his face in her hair and discovered the source of the heady scent he had noticed earlier. It _was_ her hair. He wasn’t sure if it was shampoo or perfume but it suited this woman well.

Through the trance that had overtaken him, it occurred to Duke his companion had yet to tell him her name. In fact, she hadn’t said anything. He began to wonder if she were incapable of speech, and then realized it didn’t matter. Her body, her eyes, and her hands, were saying all he needed to hear. He pulled her close, pressing her against the wall, and took her quickly, roughly, as though he would die if he didn’t have her now.

                                                            **********

When she left the room, Duke began cursing himself for not taking his time. That wasn’t like him. When he made love to a woman, Duke preferred to savor the experience, discovering what she liked, and what she didn’t, deepening the pleasure for them both. To Duke, sex was always “making love" because there was always love in the act, even if it was only for a day, or a few hours. Hard and fast, up against a wall simply wasn’t his style.

Naked, Duke padded out onto the balcony to get some air. The railing was closley placed wooden slats, not the more practical and more beautiful wrought iron usually found in New Orleans. Duke found himself grateful for the privacy it afforded, allowing him to enjoy the cool night air without the risk of being arrested.

The festivities were still in full swing below, music and dancing - lots of dancing -drinking, laughing, happy people, enjoying this lively thing called Mardi Gras. The music was upbeat, jazz bands playing the familiar sounds of New Orleans.

Then he heard a different song, this one originated inside the apartment, a softer, sweeter, bluesy song, a slow-dance of a melody. Duke felt her arms come around him from behind, her body wrapped in the thin, silky robe he had noticed earlier draped on the foot of her bed. In his ear, she softly sang along with the song:

_C'mon take me to the Mardi Gras_

_Where the people sing and play_

 

So, she can speak. She can also sing. Duke thought it might have been the loveliest voice he’d ever heard. They swayed to the music together, his back to her front, one body, one soul, blended by the music. He felt her shrug out of the robe and looked down to see it pooled at their feet. Blown by a wayward breeze, the sheer white curtains on the balcony caressed their naked skin.

“Is that Paul Simon?”

“Yes. Now, shh. Listen.”

_And I will lay my burden down_

_Rest my head upon that shore_

 

“But Paul Simon isn’t…”

 

“Shhhh….”

 

_Tumba, tumba, tumba, Mardi Gras_

_Tumba, tumba, tumba, day_

 

As the music faded into whatever was next on her playlist, Duke turned in her arms and kissed her softly, then less so, taking from her lips all she was willing to give, then demanding more.

There was a chaise lounge on the balcony and as he pressed her down onto the cushions Duke told himself “Take your time. You may be a smuggler but you are not a barbarian.”

Reluctantly breaking their kiss, Duke let his lips travel down the length of her, taking long pauses in the places that caused her to moan softly, gradually working his way down her body, then back up, more quickly this time, to retake her mouth. When he paused for breath, she whispered urgently “Now” which was all the encouragement Duke needed.

                                                            ************

When Duke woke, it took him a moment to realize they were in her bed; he wondered why, when the balcony was so much cooler, before he remembered – the rain. They had been basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking when a sudden cold downpour had driven them inside and into the relative comfort of her big brass bed.

 

Now he watched her sleep, her long dark hair, still damp from the soaking they had gotten earlier, spread across her pillow. Duke thought "this must be what angels look like." Then he laughed at himself for the fanciful thought, because religion was not something he'd ever had much use for.

 

Glancing at the clock by her bed, Duke realized it was 3:00 am. It was time to get back to the _Cape Rouge_ for a little more sleep before heading out to his next port of call.

 

As he slipped from her bed she moved restlessly, then settled into the warm spot his body had created. She didn’t wake, so Duke dressed quietly and, after placing a soft kiss on her cheek, made his way to the door. Somehow, he knew she would expect him not to be here when she woke.

 

On his way out, Duke’s eye caught sight of something on the floor near the wall where he had so roughly taken her a few hours ago. Remembering, he felt a quick rush of regret, and something akin to shame.

 

Bending to pick up the object he realized it was one of the dark, blue-black feathers from the mask she had worn. Duke smiled and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt as he opened the door.

 

 Duke thought he heard her murmur “bonne nuit ma cheri” as he passed through the doorframe. He wasn’t sure if she were talking to him or talking in her sleep. Duke waited a moment, but when she said nothing else, he softly closed the door.

 

"Good night to you too, darlin'. Good night indeed."

Back on board the _Cape Rouge_ Duke took the feather from his pocket and tucked it into the frame of the mirror in his quarters. Then, knowing he wasn’t going to get any more sleep that night, he headed back up top to prepare for his departure.

 

As he left the city behind an hour later, Duke knew he’d probably never see her again; he realized she had never told him her name. Probably for the best, he thought, since his life didn’t include settling down with any woman, even one as extraordinary as _that_ one.

 

Duke smiled and began humming, then singing, the song he would forever associate with New Orleans and a raven haired lady with a Mona Lisa smile:

 

_Tumba, tumba, tumba, Mardi Gras_

_Tumba, tumba, tumba, day_

           

                                                            **********   

 

As she heard the door close behind him, Desire’ sighed and breathed in the scent of him from where he had been lying on her sheets. She knew it was unlikely she’d ever see him again. She also knew she’d never forget either the night or the man.

 

Reaching over to restart the music, Desire’ noticed something draped across the music player. It was a black leather cord, with a silver compass suspended from it; she remembered he had taken it off the third time it got tangled in her hair.

 

Turning the compass over in her hand, Desire’ noticed it was also a locket. She knew it was an invasion of his privacy to open it but she couldn’t help herself. What she found surprised her.

 

“This” she thought to herself, “he might come back for.”

 

She doubted he had left it intentionally. Slipping the cord around her neck, it occurred to Desire' that he had not told her his name, nor had she told him hers.

 

Snuggling back down into the place where he had lain, Desire' fell back asleep, listening to the song she would forever associate with the handsome stranger:

 

_C'mon take me to the Mardi Gras_

_Where the people sing and play_

 

                                                            **********

**Author's Note:**

> Originally & still posted on FanFiction.net.


End file.
